


Bridge to Terabithia: Second Wind

by Savader



Category: Bridge to Terabithia (2007), Bridge to Terabithia - Katherine Paterson
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Love, Friendship, Friendship/Love, High School, Personal Growth, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-21 07:50:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18139439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savader/pseuds/Savader
Summary: This is a potential future for Jesse Aarons...Having been forced to grow up without Leslie Burke in his life, Jesse Aarons tried to live by her example every chance he got. His father's advice in the aftermath of her death had given Jesse the courage to move on, and, for a time, it had helped.After the first few years, however, finally realizing just how deeply his feelings for Leslie ran, Jesse was sent spiraling back into depression over her absence...Nearly seven years have passed since he lost her, and now at the cusp of adulthood, Jesse has managed to keep his melancholy under wraps with his artwork and by staying active.Now, at what could be described as the lowest point in his life, Jesse is reminded of what it was truly like having Leslie Burke around. Only, it came to him in the most unexpected of ways...





	1. Chapter 1

Jesse Aarons was in love with Leslie Burke. He came to this conclusion one day just after he had turned 16 years old, whilst reflecting on some fond memories they made together as children. The sight of her waving to him under the cover of rain that day was the defining moment, and it was never far from his teenage mind. Whenever he went off into one of his daydreams, she'd visit him in the form of that memory. Jesse recalled the thought that had entered his mind in that instance perfectly... It was just one word: _'beautiful'._ Granted, he was 11 years old at the time, so the implications of such a thought being applied so instinctively to a girl he was close with went right over his young head. He blamed it on the all-too-familiar process of budding hormones at the gates of puberty that everyone eventually stumbles their way through. Back then, he was right on the line between innocence and adolescence, so something like "falling in love" didn't quite compute so readily as it did after he started getting older. From that day forward, every thought he had of Leslie, every memory and experience they shared, was viewed in a new light. Not always, mind you. Their connection ran deeper than love, or even friendship. But for the most part, every time he pictured her face or heard her laugh, or saw her spreading her arms out as if to feel the whole world through the wind... Whenever he was reminded of her free spirit, uplifting attitude, compassionate nature, or wild imagination, he could feel his heart squeezed tight as if by some invisible hand. In a perfect world, this would be a wonderfully intoxicating feeling. Unfortunately, Jesse Aarons did not live in a perfect world. For you see, there was one major problem with his recently discovered feelings for his best friend... _**Leslie Burke was dead.**_ Hit her head on a rock and drowned in the creek below the rope they'd always used to cross from one side to the other every day after school or on the weekends. Using the rope was their ritual for getting into the magical kingdom of their own creation. And it eventually betrayed them both when the old rope finally snapped while 11-year-old Leslie Burke was attempting to cross the river alone one fateful day.

The last time Jesse saw Leslie alive was after they had said their goodbyes for the day, in the heavy downpour, when he only just began to realize how beautiful he found her... She died the very next day. Jesse blamed himself for a long time on account of not being there with her, even after his otherwise stoic father had consoled him while the wound was still fresh, and explained how that simply wasn't true. Even while understanding this, of course, Jesse remains stubborn in his belief to this day that if he had been there, instead of on a personal field trip to an art museum with his one-time music teacher, he might have been able to prevent her death. He knew he wasn't the cause; Leslie shouldn't have placed so much faith in the rope, or used it by herself. Not after the weather they had all been hammered with for weeks prior to the accident. No one should have... That makes it sound like he was blaming her for what happened, but the truth was, she was just a kid. They both were. And as smart as Leslie Burke was, kids are prone to making mistakes, and both of theirs cost Leslie her life... And, in Jesse's mind, it was his moment of selfish desire in wanting to have a day with Miss Edmonds all to himself that stopped him from being there for his best friend when she needed him most. He was naturally aware that being there with her very well could have resulted in both of their untimely demise, but even if he had simply invited her to go along with him and Miss Edmonds that day, had the rope still been dangling from its tree after they returned, they would have ended up facing the same danger anyway. So, to Jesse's logic, he may as well have been there with her in the first place.

Now at the ripe ol' age of 17 going on 18, Jesse Aarons occasionally has bouts of romantic fluff for his deceased friend when he thinks back on their time together, and that vice-like grip over his heart is immediately followed by and, soon after, mixed with the sensation of the vital organ being ripped straight from his chest. It starts as a shortlived yet wonderful ache, and ends with an unbearable amount of pure anguish. He realized that she was his soulmate, and that he couldn't even begin to imagine being with anyone else moving forward now. He figured part of the reason why he felt that way was likely due to the fact that she was gone forever, and as such, he would never be able to resolve those feelings, but sometimes understanding isn't enough to move on. The internal confession came on in the form of a delayed effect, taking root when he was an 11-year-old boy, and only managed to fully bloom after it was too late to do anything about it. He compared it to the idea of getting his foot caught in a bear trap he had no way of spotting beneath all the foliage. He hated it, and knew that, realistically, he would have to get over her eventually, but he also knew that he simply didn't have the strength to pry the teeth of that trap apart. He couldn't bear to let his feelings for Leslie disappear. They were about all he had left of her now, aside from her legacy -- **Terabithia**.

However, the magical kingdom of Terabithia was more his little sister, May Belle's, special place now than it was his. It was sad, but Jesse was beginning to outgrow the world of make-believe. In his heart, he would always view their treehouse as a truly magical castle born from his and Leslie's imagination; originally a special place made just for them in order to escape their problems. But he couldn't use it as a crutch forever... Nowadays, Terabithia was more of a symbol, or a promise, than a physical place to him. Sure, he still visited from time to time (thanks to the makeshift bridge he had built in honor of Leslie Burke), but only when May Belle wanted to play. Sometimes he'd go it alone, late at night, when his yearning for Leslie would grow to be too much for him to handle, but it was always out of a sense of loyalty to Leslie more than anything else, and lately his interests rested primarily on his art and running track & field.

Jesse kept Leslie alive as best he could through his artwork, which included incredibly detailed concepts of their special place, along with all of the magical creatures that inhabited it, and, of course, the kingdom's queen: Leslie herself. Whenever he wanted to create, he allowed his imagination to soar, and as though Leslie herself was guiding his hand, he managed to craft works of beauty he never could have dreamed of had she not helped him to open his mind nearly seven years ago. He was becoming quite good, and like any great artist of their age, he was beginning to develop his own unique style. Drawing or painting Leslie, especially, was therapeutic for him, as it allowed him to maintain his memory of her for as long as possible. He dreaded the day he would no longer be able to recall what she looked like on his own... There was nothing he could do about the sound of her voice, but her likeness at least -- that, he could protect.

When Jesse wasn't drawing or painting, he was running. Truly, aside from his physical features, the young man hadn't changed all that much since he was a young boy. However, now much taller, he was on his way to taking part in official races for the USATF. The youth division he was applying for was currently training for an upcoming national race half a year from now, and he was determined to enter it and take the gold. He was already in track & field at his school, and at the very top among the other runners, but he knew he could do better. The USATF's youth division would have agents scout the local candidates every year to see if any of the students had potential. And this year, their eyes were all on Jesse. There were naturally other worthy candidates besides him, but none of them ran quite like Jesse did. There was a certain air about him that no one could put their finger on... When Jesse Aarons took off, it was like watching one of his paintings come to life. His aura changed -- almost made him glow! It was a magnificent sight. Of course, Jesse could only take the word of others on this one, as he never noticed anything special about him. But he had a feeling their interpretation of his running likely had something to do with what he saw whenever he set foot on the field, and how it would naturally affect his mood. Something only he could see. _Someone_ only he could see... That's right, you guessed it. Every time Jesse went for a run, _Leslie Burke would be running right there beside him_ , neck-and-neck, until she ultimately ended up overtaking him and leaving him in the dust. Every time. Just like when they were kids.

This strange phenomenon first started not long after Jesse had realized his true feelings for Leslie, and he reasoned that it was more than likely that the two discoveries had a direct correlation. His view of her had changed, although the nature of his longing for her had remained much the same, so his imagination took that reinforced emotion and projected it outward in order to give him what he wanted. He understood the psychology behind it well enough, and always made sure to not let himself get carried away with delusions that Leslie Burke had come back from beyond the grave in order to haunt him. But even still, it was so very authentic... Whenever he took his starting position, he could almost make out her slender hands gently touching the dirt on the ground from the corner of his eye. Everything from her long fingers up to a glimpse of her unique fashion sense; the personalized red wristband she always wore, and the black elbow braces she'd used the day of their intial encounter. If he turned to look at her straight on, her apparition would disappear like mist against a breeze, so he remained focused on the path ahead in order to enjoy her presence. When he takes off, full-speed, it doesn't take long for Leslie's ghost to catch up with him. Then, and only then, can he take her in fully with his eyes without fear of her vanishing before them. She always appeared just as she had in his memories: pre-teenage years, short and spunky blonde hair, slender frame, about as tall as he was back then, her weird choice of clothing attire, and her amazingly deep blue-green colored eyes. And her _smile_  -- how could he forget that wonderful smile! She was so happy. So _free_. So...alive.

Just as in their very first race together when she was among the living, Leslie's ghost, too, beat Jesse. It was strange, for the obvious reasons, but also because he knew there was no way an 11-year-old girl could beat him in a footrace -- not anymore, not now that he was almost an adult himself and currently training for the nationals. Yet she still managed to outstrip him in almost no time at all. He would watch her, not unlike that first time all those years ago, slowly pass him by until he couldn't keep up and, pushed to the point of exhaustion, was forced to slow to a heavy-footed halt. Whilst in the process of catching his breath, he'd steal a glance at the path ahead in order to see her continue on without him, only to be blinded by a convenient ray of sunlight, by his own sweat, or blocked by a tree, and even during late runs when it would be too dark to make out her form in the distance before she'd disappear into the ether altogether. Every time he went out on a run, he'd see her fade away in the midst of her running motion. Jesse liked to think of it as her leaving the realm of the living and returning to heaven. The first time he had encountered her ghost, he'd stumbled out of natural shock, and broke down in the street, scraping his knees up in the process. That day, he wept as hard as he had the day she died, and his mind hadn't even processed the state of his knees yet.

After that first encounter, Jesse had made the concious decision not to run anymore, out of fear of seeing her again only for her to vanish once more. His conviction lasted only a couple of days before he caved in to his unearthly desire to see his favorite person even one more time. Jesse decided that seeing her even for the duration of a short run was better than not seeing her at all. After all, it wasn't like when she'd enter his headspace via memory. When he'd see her there running beside him, she looked so real that he swore he could almost reach out and touch her. But any attempt at doing so always resulted in her untimely exit from the race, which sucked because, for whatever reason, Jesse could only ever get his brain to perform this incredibly convincing trick once per day... He knew the gist of the psychology behind it all, yes. But he was no psychologist, that was for sure. Trying to figure this all out on his own would get him nowhere except for making his head spin. That being said, he also wasn't dumb enough to tell anyone that it was happening, as that would naturally lead to concern for his health, and the eventual suggestion that he seek psychological help, and considering he was still a minor, that "suggestion" could easily be turned into a forced admission to a psyche ward. While he understood that there were people to see for this kind of problem, that didn't interest someone who not only didn't want to fix the problem, but also didn't even see it as a problem to begin with. Jesse looked at Leslie's ghost as a blessing in disguise. He was aware of the risks to his psychological health, but he figured that as long as he was aware she wasn't really there, he would be alright to enjoy her company where and when he could. Besides, it wasn't that different from when they imagined seeing a giant troll that had an uncanny resemblance to their one-time tormentor, Janice Avery. Jesse simply hadn't had such an active imagination since he was 14. This and that felt very similar in both nature and design, so he fully endorsed it. Some part of him felt like that may be him backsliding into denial and trying to cope with her death, but he also argued that it wasn't denial if he understood that she wasn't really there, that it was just something his brain cooked up to make him feel better. Go figure, Jesse was oftentimes deeply depressed, so he didn't see the actual harm in continuing to indulge in this activity so long as it uplifted his mood. Plus, on the brighter side, it was keeping him extremely fit.

Unfortunately for Jesse, it seemed that his brain slowly began to lose its imaginative spark in regards to Leslie's ghost, as it was getting progressively harder to see her while he ran... He began to lose heart and sink back into chronic depression, when a school acquaintance of his told him he should enter in one of their school's unofficial track races. He did so, on a whim, and just as clearly as the first time it had happened, Leslie was setting up for the race right next to him. She was closer than usual, too, on account of the other lanes being filled with actual people. Jesse's heart immediately began to beat faster, and he couldn't help but smile. He won the race, but still lost to Leslie, same as any other time. The difference here, however, was that at the end of the race, he caught sight of Leslie's ghost spinning around to face him after she slowed to a stop, and through the glare of the sun beating down on them, he could barely make out an almost self-aware smile forming on her face. It lasted for no more than a couple of seconds before she was gone, but it was there. Jesse's first thought was that Leslie's ghost was becoming more like Leslie. _The_ Leslie. And the trigger? An actual race! Jesse could hardly hold back his excitement at the prospect of seeing even more from this phenomenon, and even pumped his fist and yelled out a victory cry that unsuspecting runners and spectators simply took as excitement over his finishing in 1st place.

And so, having shown his stuff in the rough among the actual track & field stars, Lark Creek High's coach offered him a spot on the team. Knowing full-well that he could use this to see more of Leslie, Jesse didn't hesitate in accepting the offer.

Finally, Jesse had found a means to see Leslie again! Even if it was all just in his head, he could pretend -- just like when they were kids. She was physically gone from this world, yes. But her influence remained. She was teaching him to open his mind all over again -- the barrier between life and death be damned! Jesse couldn't help but think that God must really love her, to let her reach him from heaven. Jesse could understand such love. He could understand it very well indeed.


	2. Routine Maintenance

Jesse woke to the smell of bacon, the most effective alarm for any growing teenager. It was early, as indicated by the clock resting on the nightstand at the side of his bed that lit up whenever he pressed the button at the top. A little after five in the morning. He knew the provocative scent wafting into his bedroom from downstairs was his mother's handiwork. His father, Jesse Aarons Sr., also known as "Jack" so as not to be confused with Jesse Jr., had to get up at the crack of dawn most mornings, on account of being the manager of the hardware store he'd practically made a second home over the past 13 years. And although Jack had always had early mornings due to yardwork on his own property, and...not to mention that he'd opened the store almost every day before finally being promoted anyway... the manager position was a nice bump in pay. Jack had been managing the store for somewhere close to four years now, and things both at work and at home had been smooth for some time. Jesse and his family were no longer struggling to make ends meet, and while they certainly weren't rich, they were comfortable for what felt like the first time since...well, ever. The only downside was that Jack worked basically the same hours, so even though the raise was nice, there was no change in Jack's ability to spend time with his family. Still, the man was a lot happier than he used to be.

Jesse let out a sigh through his nose and swung his legs over the edge of his mattress as he sat up. Bringing his hands to his face, he slid them up over his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. He had a headache, and was drenched in a cold sweat.

"Again...?" he asked the dark, empty room. His voice had the unique grog of morning crankiness, but there was more intent behind his annoyance than usual. Jesse had been having trouble sleeping the past few weeks. Nightmares, he'd figured. Three guesses as to what about... Jesse used to have them all the time when he was younger, but eventually they only plagued his dreams every so often.

He sighed outwardly again and wiped his forehead before standing up. Grabbing the discarded plain white tee off the floor, he slogged his way to the bathroom that was still steamy from his father's recent shower, and closed the door behind him.

Jesse turned on the light and tossed his shirt onto the counter. He braced himself with his hands atop its surface, and, in the space between the fog that his father had already wiped away, locked eyes with the person in the mirror above the sink. He saw someone who looked beyond tired. Not necessarily in just the physical sense, but something deeper. Something in his gaze. Aside from that, Jesse appeared to be just your average teenage boy going through puberty. His jawline and cheekones had filled out to resemble something more man than childlike, and he even had the makings of a beard growing in. His physique reflected years of exercise, and considering what his physical outlet was, he was quite lean. Signs of a blemish taking form earned his silent ire, but otherwise he looked pretty healthy. However, his dark hair was currently dangling over his eyes in a matted mess, thanks to the sweat, and he decided that he didn't like how old his current visage made him feel, so he wasted no more time in turning on the faucet to clean up.

After washing his face and wiping off the sweat as best he could with a clean towel, Jesse went about his normal morning routine before throwing on his shirt over the sweatpants he was already wearing, and made for the kitchen. He ran a hand through his hair and swept it back as he lightly thumped down the steps, and was soon greeted by his mother, Mary Aarons.

"There he is," she said, having anticipated his arrival, spotting him from her position by the stove. She was currently sloshing around some scrambled eggs in the pan in front of her, a smile on her face. "Sleep well?"

"Well enough," he lied. Jesse didn't look twice at the plate of bacon on the counter before grabbing a piece.

"Ah, ah! Did you wash your hands?" Mary took the spatula out of the eggs and pointed it at Jesse, in warning. She'd caught him as he was shoving a piece of bacon into his mouth. "Yesh..." he spoke through his teeth as they crunched the slice of bacon into bits.

"And did you brush your teeth?" Mary added, her smile turning playful.

"Absolutely," Jesse droned out in response, as he munched on that lovely, crispy goodness. Mary simply shook her head without dropping her smile as she turned her attention back to making breakfast, visibly chuckling. Jack Aarons swept around the corner from the door to the backyard, and stole his wife's attention as he have her a quick peck on the cheek from behind.

"The boy's fine, Mary" he said with a warm smile, having caught half of the brief exchange from outside. "Only hungry all the time, just like his old man. Ain't that right, Jess?" Jack popped a piece of bacon into his own mouth as well, and moved over to his only son to clap a firm hand over the teenager's shoulder. Jesse merely gave his father a wry smile as they both chewed, using the fact that he just woke up as an excuse to remain despondent. It was partially true, at least.

The Jack that Jesse knew as a child would have barked at him for not responding properly, but the Jack of today paid it no mind, and simply gave his son a pat on the back and moved over to the fresh pot of coffee that had barely finished brewing. He poured himself a cup and turned around to face his wife and son, leaning his backside against the counter as he slowly brought the mug up to his lips.

"Oh, that reminds me -- Jess," Jack said, interrupting his own motion to drink his coffee. Jesse could tell his father was speaking with more importance now, so he paid full attention to his words. "I may need your help down at the store later today, after you get out of school. Ron's still sick with the flu, so we need all the help we can get..." Jack trailed off as he directed his coffee to his mouth and took a sip, icy-blue eyes still on Jesse.

"Yeah," replied Jesse with a nod. "No problem." Jack nodded back in response, clearly having expected no other answer, and checked his watch. Jesse guessed it was close to 5:30 now, and judging by the way Jack had hurriedly set his Cup of Jo down, he'd say he judged correctly.

"Oop, time to go!" Jack walked back across the kitchen, ruffling Jesse's hair once as he passed by, and gave Mary another kiss before heading for the door, donning his jacket as he went. "See you later-- Jesse! Don't forget your chores!" A few seconds after Jack had finished yelling his goodbyes, the sound of his pickup truck's engine roaring to life reached their ears, and before long, Jack pulled out of the driveway and left for work.

"Well? You heard the man." Mary was still smiling. Jesse smiled back, if only slightly.

"I'm gonna go for a run first," he said, and walked over to his father's discarded mug and took a quick sip. He cringed. Jack Aarons liked his coffee black. His mother gave him a strange look, but he disregarded it, and tried to finish as much of the bitter drink as he could before heading for the front door to put his shoes on, grabbing another piece of bacon along the way. But before he could leave the kitchen, Mary stopped him, giving her son a motherly scowl as she placed her hands on his head to look at his cheek.

"What did you...? Jess! Don't pop them-- it's gonna leave a scar!" she said as he wriggled free of her grasp just as quickly as he'd entered it, and she slapped him lightly on the arm.

"I know, I know..." he replied with an impatient tone. "Too late to do anything about it now!" Mary disapproved, but she didn't want to make a big deal out of it. Jesse threw on his sneakers and practically jumped out of the house as soon as he saw the opportunity.

"Be careful!" she hurriedly tried to add, hoping he'd heard her. He had, but simply gave her a halfhearted wave and glance from behind as he took off at a jog.

Jesse's sneakers hit the dry dirt of the road leading out onto the street that passed his house, and upon exiting through the open gate, turned right and picked up his pace a little as he went up the street. He was headed in the same direction he always took whenever he went running. It was the same path he and Leslie used to take every day on their way to Terabithia, and later with May Belle. Had he turned left, he eventually would have come across Leslie's old house -- the old Perkins' place, before she and her parents had moved in seven Springs ago. It was also the route he'd take to go to school, but he still had an hour or so before he'd needed to head out for first period, and any chance he could take at not being forced to look at that beautiful, empty house, the better.

The current weather was your typical suspect in Lark Creek, Virginia: rain, rain, and more rain, with a _chance for rain!_ That wasn't entirely true, but it sure felt that way to Jesse most days. He hated the rain, for obvious reasons, but it was the devil he knew. In Lark Creek, it could go from blue skies with plenty of sunlight beating down over everyone, to a sudden shower that could last anywhere from a couple of minutes to half the day. It was especially bad around this time of year. So, when the mixed hues of dawn had changed into an abysmal grey not even halfway through his run, Jesse wasn't the least bit surprised. It was nearing six o'clock in the morning now, so the sun was high enough to light his path even through the thick clouds that rolled in from seemingly out of nowhere, and that was enough for him to continue running.

He stopped for rest once partway, letting the downpour of rain wash over him as he sucked down air. Jesse looked up at the sky through squinted eyes, not being able to help but blink as the numerous droplets of water splashed onto his face. The sky was beginning to clear up now and, with it, the rain. He brought his gaze back down to the path ahead and waited for the precipitation to evaporate, and closed his eyes. The various noises of the outdoors around him slowly disappeared, one by one, until the only sound he could hear was his own heart beat and quiet breathing.

"Come on, Leslie..." he whispered to the thin air, eyes still closed. "Come on... Leslie, _please..._ " He repeated this a couple more times, like a mantra. He waited until he felt a presence beside him before opening his eyes again, and he was greeted by a multitude of colors produced by the effects of the sun's rays hitting the water on the ground and in the air. A gentle smile crept its way onto his face, and that was before he'd even noticed the vague outline of the girl standing to his right. Even though he'd been experiencing this phenomenon off and on for the better part of a year now, it still took every fiber of his being not to immediately turn his head to look at the shape that suddenly appeared in his periphery, out of pure reflex alone. Nevermind the fact that it was supposed to be his late best friend that came to visit.

Jesse's smile increased for a fraction of a second before returning to normal, and he addressed the apparition. "Okay... You ready, Leslie?" He bent his posture slightly in order to get into position for the race, and he saw Leslie do the same out of the corner of his eye. "On your mark..." He caught her twitch slightly in anticipation, and he licked his lips absentmindedly to remove the dew under his nose as he returned his focus to the road ahead. "Get set...!" He paused for dramatic effect, and shot forward. " _Go!!_ " He let out a laugh as he blurred past Leslie, knowing she'd catch up in no ti--

He hadn't made it more than  _five steps_ before his prediction came true, and he turned his head to see her short blonde locks flowing in the wind as she began to pass him, a smile on her face that stretched from ear-to-ear. Today's phantom had Leslie wearing her favorite blue tanktop -- the one with the spread wings design -- and pink cut-off sleeves. Jesse's smile widened into a big toothy grin, and he had to balance looking back-and-forth between Leslie and the space in front of him so as not to lose his footing or run into something.

Leslie's image wasn't as clear as it had been the first time he'd been "reunited" with her, but he could still make out the finer details even from her now-transparent body. He saw her face light up as her smile turned into a grin to match his own. The way her lips popped open suddenly to reveal her pearly whites gave him the impression that a laugh had escaped her, although he couldn't hear it. Leslie's feet didn't even make any sound, despite the fact that they were positively  _pounding_  against the pavement.

That word entered Jesse's mind again. _'Beautiful'..._ He couldn't help but take in her lovely features. Jesse felt a little strange, considering he was applying such an opinion to the image of an 11-year-old girl, but there was nothing inappropriate about it. He knew that, what he was seeing and the impression it gave him, was partially a mark of his younger self's account, and it worked in tandem with the glimpse of what would have been her eventual beauty, had she been given the chance to mature alongside him. He knew, without ever having seen an 18-year-old Leslie Burke, that she would have been _stunning._

They ran through the fields, trees, and roads, just like when Leslie was alive, until they reached the start of a trail that ran further into the woods by a long creek. Jesse let his momentum cancel out as he approached a tree near the entrance to the trail, slapping his hands against its bark to brace himself. He stayed like that for a moment longer than he meant to, breath heavy as his eyes wandered aimlessly around the tree while he slowly came down from the euphoric effect Leslie's ghost had given him. The smile on his face gradually faded, and his expression hardened into stone. Leslie was no longer next to him. She had disappeared as they approached their halt at the tree; Jesse felt her go. He simply let out a sigh and gently pushed himself away from the tree, then turned to look up the path leading towards their special place.

There were still drops of water coming off the trees that surrounded the trail, thanks to gravity still doing its thing, and it created an almost cathartic effect as they fell to the ground. Even as beautiful a spectacle as it was, Jesse was glad it had stopped raining. Leslie wouldn't come out when it was. He imagined it likely had something to do with his personal resentment towards it, and how that could be interfering with his subconscious ability to summon Leslie. She had died because of the rain, so it made sense why she wouldn't like coming out whenever it started up again. Of course, that was just Jesse's way of trying to apply logic to the strange requirements behind Leslie's visitations. It really was quite similar to how they played make-believe when they were together seven years ago. Just like then, Jesse was establishing something of a head-canon in order to better understand and relate with what was going on. Even if it  _was_ all in his brain.

Jesse took an unconscious step forward, but retracted it hesitantly. He could just make out the bridge from where he stood; it wasn't far from the tree that served as his and Leslie's old finish line. Walking slowly towards it, he took in the old construct, made out of wooden planks, vines, and branches. He'd used the vines to tie the tree-branch railings together to better adhere to the boards he'd borrowed from Mr. Burke, but they also ended up serving as artistic flair. All things considered, the artist in Jesse was always proud of what he had made.

As he approached the arch in front of the bridge, Jesse took a second to peer over the drop on his side of the creek. There was barely any water in it right now, but that would likely change in just a couple of months...

Upon reaching the foot of the bridge, he ran a hand against the smooth framework of his masterpiece, and looked up at the plaque above him.

_Nothing crushes us!_

Jesse let out a huff of air he didn't know he was holding, its tone dripping with disdain. The irony of that old statement. He'd truly felt like he managed to avoid being crushed by his loss back when he made the plaque, but now...? Leslie had shouted it at the heavens one day, not long before she perished. It stuck with him, and he thought that if he'd immortalized it and adopted it as his own personal motto, it would make him believe it was true. Sadly, any time Jesse wasn't creating or running, he couldn't help but feel as though this near insurmountable weight was being pressed down on him from all sides, effectively crushing his very soul. This was true depression. On the surface, he was able to play off the reality of his pain. Even if he wasn't convincing enough to fool his family into believing he was actually happy, it was better than them knowing just how bad it truly was. Then again, perhaps it would be better to say that he was still in the process of _being_ crushed. It was a slow and steady pressure that, Jesse assumed, would one day surpass his threshold and utterly destroy him.

The tormented track star thought about what it all meant for the umpteenth time as he began trying to fix a broken section of the bridge's railing he had taken notice of. He tried to keep up with maintaining it as best he could, but it was difficult to make time when he needed to balance work at home, work at school, and work at the hardware store -- with training on top of it all. Plus, May Belle and Joyce Ann were both a handful in their own right. May Belle had introduced their little sister to the magical world of Terabithia a year ago, and it was like the hype it naturally imbued in youth had never died down for even a second. Joyce Ann was always ecstatic about visiting, just as May Belle was when she was her age. Jesse couldn't help but smile at that thought. It was what he had always hoped for, ever since the day he decided to build the bridge.

The railing was still slick with water from the rain, so Jesse was having a tough time getting a good grip on it in order to fix it by hand. He gave up, frustrated. Letting a sigh out through his nose, he gave a bitter look around the area until his eyes stopped on the ancient enchanted rope, its broken remains still dangling just off to the side of the bridge at a higher elevation by way of another tree. Jesse's gaze was an empty one. He wasn't staring at the broken rope itself, but what it represented: his failure. He had known it was old, and yet he barely tried to dissuade Leslie from trying it that first time...

Jesse quickly snapped himself out of his daze and tore his eyes away from the "portal." He shook his head, internally berating himself. Leslie was her own person. She would have used the rope either way, with or without him -- it was just who she was. Jesse realized that part of him was still mad at her for being such a natural risk-taker. It was one of the many things that made her so wonderful, but that one had clearly been a double-edged sword. And she fell right on it... Jesse ruffled his hair with his hands and let out a frustrated groan that increased in volume as it went. This constant war with himself was driving him insane.

Without another thought, he sprinted off back in the direction he came from. It was time to head home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A pretty uneventful second chapter, I know. But I'm trying to ease my way into this. I really wanted to hammer home Jesse's whole mentality over what happened to Leslie, and I thought it would be good to throw in some screentime (page...time?) with Leslie as well. I normally don't write expositions like that, but I felt that much at least needed to be moved out of the way for the furthering of my own plot.
> 
> Anyway, I hope any of you who have taken the time to read my work enjoyed it. More to come!

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first attempt at a fic. I absolutely love Bridge to Terabithia, and Leslie Burke will always resonate deeply with my soul. I realize that her death stuck with a great many people, both young and old, over the years, and I am one of them. Seriously, her death floored me for weeks... I'm sure some of you are wondering why someone who claims to love Leslie so would write a fic using Katherine Paterson's decision to kill her off as canon, but... Well, I have my reasons. The story I want to write is more than just one thing or another, despite what a lot of you may be led to believe as it all unfolds, but I hope you'll all bear with me. It may end up being more interesting than you initially think!
> 
> Now, a few things regarding my work going forward:
> 
> First, as I am sure you can tell from my description of Leslie, I am basing the designs and overall happenings of the story off of the movie, more so than the book. That being said, I will naturally be taking liberties for various things in order to fit the grand scheme of my plot more easily.
> 
> Secondly, I absolutely welcome constructive criticism. I cannot grow as an amateur writer if I don't have any feedback. I will naturally appreciate all comments praising my work, but if there's something you feel I need to improve on, lay it on me! That being said, it should be obvious that that doesn't mean you have my permission to be toxic. The general rules and guidelines for AO3 still apply!
> 
> Lastly, enjoy! It may not be for everyone, but I don't see very many Bridge to Terabithia fanfics out there, and I certainly haven't seen one using my concept, so hopefully it's enough to keep you guys entertained for at least a little while. I don't know how long or short it's going to end up being, but I do know that my initial idea for it spans a three part story. We'll see how it goes!
> 
> Thank you all, and I hope we have a great time together on this brand new adventure!
> 
> NOTHING CRUSHES US!!!


End file.
